Hidden Valley
by Arelite
Summary: The Orcstress has arrived. A refugee she comes to the Hidden Valley to live, although she does not know it yet. A young elf must teach her the ways and show her how to fit in. The future of the Valley may depend on it. Chap 2 up: Breaking an Orc
1. Prologue

**The Hidden Valley**

**Prologue **

There is a place not far from Rivendell, not far at all, a small place really, nestled in a wooded valley, besides a waterfall – Lundramir.

The Valley of Lundramir is how it is known to the folk who dwell therein. This valley is protected, for it holds a secret. It holds a hope for the future of Middle-Earth. It is a Template Town, an experiment, and it is most seriously sponsored by the Ainur, the wizards and their kind, who dwelleth mostly over the sea, in Valinor.

The Wizards watch, silently, knowing they cannot intervene directly in the fate of Middle-Earth. It has always been their way. Even when it came to the destruction of the One Ring, a score of years ago, they could not remove the Ring from the land, could not spirit it across the dimensional portal (over the sea) to the land of Valinor. They could not bring the War of the Ring out of that land. It had to be defeated there and only there. With Gandalf's help it was. But remember, he did not directly handle the object for any long amount of time, nor face many of the dangers that were ultimately involved. It was not his place to. To the hilt, he followed the code of Non-Intervention. And so it is with the Hidden Valley.

Though past dangers have been removed, the rosy fate of Middle-Earth is still not assured. In Valinor, the Seers are ever watchful of their young fellow-races. They are ever aware of tidings and fluctuations, ebbs and flows of fate that occur there. They watch with great concern whenever there seems to be a problem that affects a great number of beings. From afar they know how the hobbits fare. They can see how the politics of dwarves progress. They watch as the race of man grows in power, as it is right to do. They call the elves back to the Undying Lands when the elves presence is no longer necessary as a balance in Middle-Earth.

You see, the elves are a race of beings that hold a most deliberate energy for the land. They anchor the energy. Wise in all ways, light of heart, true in intention, the elves are a higher dimensional race. They exist in a slightly higher octave than man, for example. Their bodies are physical, yet less dense. Their biology holds more light, which they actually radiate. Their cells do not decay quickly, nor are they supposed to. It is only lower dimensional beings who age rapidly – beings who do not hold such radiance within. Courser minds, courser ideals, all of this leads to a physical body that is itself course. Light is trapped within, never shining out.

Because it is nearing time for most elves to leave, a new balance needs to be struck. Their light would be removed to over the sea. All things must balance, so what could replace them, what could anchor the finer energies in Middle-Earth? This is the problem facing the Ainur and measures are now being put in place to fill the vacuum the elven will leave behind them. The new hope will be in mankind, but there is also another.

This is where the fair Valley of Lundramir enters into the picture. There are one or two things that must be known about this valley. It is different, _quite_ different, to other populations in Middle-Earth, though different in an agreeable way.

As mentioned, it is a Template City, and as such is sacred to those who watch over the development of Middle-Earth. For whatever happens in this city, happens in other places in the land, just like a template. Once the template is created, it can be copied over and over in other places, in other valleys, copied energetically. The Valley of Lundramir is making it possible for new opportunities to arise, a new box to be opened, a new chapter to begin. Here is how it differs to other places. Do not be shocked.

In this beautiful valley, man lives side by side with elf (the few who remain yet). They do not simply live in the one spot; they coexist harmoniously, willingly, cooperating with one another despite the challenge of their diversity and differences. There is more. With them live a sidelined group, an oft alienated group who are given a second chance. There are not many of them, it is true. Mostly they were shunned from their own camps, chased away under threat of death, tormented and reviled wherever they went, refugees who did not fit. What do you suppose happens to _orcs_ that are rejected by their own tribe? Orc culture does not permit them to join other tribes, who are far too hostile to accept new members. Tribes are always exiling their fellows for ridiculous reasons. A suspicion, looking at each other the wrong way, territory disputes, property disputes, the list goes on. What happens to rejected orcs, who, near death, open their minds and ask for something more, a new chance. The ones who do not open their minds are left in the wilderness to die alone. Those who do ask, and there are many, are given that chance. They find their way to Lundramir. And there they live.

Can you now see why this special valley is kept a secret from the proud cities of men, and the even prouder forests wherein the elves dwell. It is too premature in this plan of the Ainur for others to understand the work that is being accomplished. The Objective: Harmony amongst Diversity. When it works, oh it is wonderful! When man, elf and orc can live together, work, struggle and play together, this is a great marvel. Yet it is delicate. The template is not complete, after all. It must be protected until it can grow, mature and be set as steel, unshakeable against prejudice.

Is there anything that can destroy the work that is being accomplished in the soft, hushed valley? That remains to be seen. Now our story proper must begin, and we begin with a young elf male, Lanradhis, one of the first to heed the calling and settle in the valley. It is said that if life offers nothing new for the searcher, they will surely stumble upon the Hidden Valley and be accepted into its deep mists, where they will begin anew. And so it is.

Life goes on for the inhabitants, and the population grows slowly. Children are born, little ones who do not grow up with the old prejudices for they are not connected to them. They are connected firmly to the new template and so it grows stronger. The power of it can be felt, the new mental grid, the Template of Harmony.


	2. 1 The Orcstress

**Chapter One – The Orcstress**

The hidden valley is set up to exist in a perfectly blended manner. Men build their homes under the lush canopies of trees. No trees are permitted to be felled in the valley, so often their homes incorporate sturdy trunks. Young saplings are left alone to grow in peace. Elves build their flets high up, where dizzy heights don't bother them. Birds, squirrels and other creatures keep them company, though they have an agreement with them that they are not to enter the open-aired flets. Feeding of the wildlife is prohibited so that nature can remain balanced in all ways.

The minority in Lundramir are the orcs and their families. Whilst the elves' homes are the most beautiful and creative of all and the men's are practical and clean, the orcs take less care in their dwellings. They live on the ground, amongst the men, and great care has been taken to ensure precincts and divides don't exist. They _must_ live side by side, or not at all. They cannot separate themselves or their families.

It's true these hardy orcs need to find within themselves a new equilibrium, a new purpose and mind-set. There are fifty of them living there, give or take. Fifteen of these are little orclets, ruffians whose natural inclination is to destroy things. When anything goes wrong in Lundramir, the overseers turn first to the orc children. But they are loved, never hated. They are nurtured of course to bring out the very best in their race. This is an experiment and positive things are being discovered all the time. The orcs' natural instincts could be channelled into activities that were suited to them. Felling trees in the renewable woods planted outside Lundramir was something they enjoyed. Hunting suited them like a glove. Working as part of a community is something they could do, when taught properly.

There is a large communal house called Faflatie, which is where newcomers to the valley must live for at least a year, or until the hosts of that house are satisfied they could fully fit in. You see, people did not turn up at Lundramir usually in a very good state, physically or psychologically. Lost, alone, starving, bereft of all care, they would straggle upon the valley, thankful to have their life saved, amazed that there was a place where they were accepted. Normally the valley was protected by a type of elven magic that made it hard to enter or see. Those stragglers or travellers who happened upon it by coincidence would not notice the dwellings nestled below in the cool depths. They would feel uncomfortable, for no reason they could discern, and move along again. No one that wasn't supposed to be there had ever climbed down the wooded slopes, never happened upon the strange community hidden within. They were protected by odd beings…

A ring of silent, megalithic Standing Stones stood guard around the rim of the valley. These stones contained life force. They were able to alert the elves, whose job it was to reorient newcomers whenever a new one arrived. Oft hidden by climbing vines and sweet blooms, the stones remain untouched through every season, ever watchful, ever guarding Lundramir. They would send out a low, deep booming vibration through both ground and air whenever they "saw" someone approaching. The vibration was so low only elves could pick it up. Lanradhis was one of those elves whose job it was to listen for the noise and then act.

He was sitting comfortably in a tree, composing a poem, for it was his morning off from duty at Faflatie, the communal house where he served. He was enjoying the quiet morning, reflecting upon the style that the branches grew in the tree he sat. A small scrap of scroll was ever to be found on his person, along with a bit of charcoal with which to write. He was quite pleased with this poem and ruminating silently about who he could share it with. If he showed it to Bafra, the old elf who had been trying to make his way to the sea when he found Lundramir and decided to stay; he knew that he'd get a swipe to the head, at best. Bafra claimed he had spent the best part of four thousand years composing poems and he now claimed that it got him nowhere. He didn't want to see Lanradhis take the same path.

Lanradhis chewed on a twig absently as he tried to think who might appreciate his newest work the best. Calarienn might. But he never quite knew if she was just being polite when she read his work. Maybe she hated it. Lanradhis chewed so hard on the twig at that thought it snapped between his perfect teeth. Spitting out bark quickly he leaned over and aimed at the ground, trying to eject the grit. It wasn't very decorous and he hoped no one saw. Now he had forgotten where he was up to in his poem, his train of thought lost completely. Then he paused.

A rumble passed up the trunk of the tree, ominous and deep. Ah. That could only mean one thing. Forgetting his poem, he sprang to the valley floor and began to race up the sloping ravine, brushing by ferns as he went. A Newcomer. A newcomer had arrived! He wondered was it to be elf, man, dwarf (there were only 3 dwarves in all of Lundramir).

He zagged to the right. It was the stone monolith up there, up yonder, on the ridge above. He lopped upwards easily, seeing two other figures join him on the slope, nimbly passing between trees, jutting roots and hanging boughs. He saw one of the figures was Calarienn, a dark haired nymph of an elf. She moved left and intercepted him. She was carrying a basket of goodies for whoever had stumbled upon them. A small sweetener of food and wine. For usually they did not like to cooperate at first, it all depended.

An armed elf hit the top of the ravine before them and stood stock still surveying the plain. His name was Hidii. They had to have an armed elf of some sort no matter who was arriving, it was policy, and also plain common sense. Lanradhis and Calarienn joined him, breathing easily as though they had just been strolling. "What do you see?" asked Lanradhis.

Hidii was still casting around, unsure. He looked back at the standing stone behind them, which was now silent. "It was _this_ stone that spoke?" he asked to reassure himself.

"Yes," both answered him.

"Then I see nothing. But….wait."

A figure emerged slowly from the grass. It had ducked down when it had seen the armed elf step onto the plain. Now that it had shown itself, it froze again. The elves exchanged glances.

"Calarienn and I will go," said Lanradhis, waving for Hidii to back down. They were unarmed.

"Are you sure? Bafra won't like it."

"Bafra is not here," reminded Lanradhis. "There is only one. It will be safe."

He began to edge forward through the long grass, Calarienn only slightly behind. He could see what it was now, orc. Like a cat about to pouch, she crouched ready to spring as they came nearer. Her eyes were wide and held something terrible. Yellowed teeth showed in a sneer. They stopped three meters from her, holding out empty hands in a sign of peace. Slowly the she-orc stood tall, her weight balanced ready to fight.

In her right hand was a curved, jagged dagger, clutched tightly. In her left was a pointed stick that had been worked upon to form a stubby spear. She wore a short leather tunic that had seen better days, her lean legs shone, reflecting light from their lightly scaled lengths. A hole was ripped in the tunic to show her stomach, which was furred with short brown tufts. Her arms were very muscled, her face was flat looking and ordinary, but her eyes; they were a steel trap. Lanradhis met their gaze and sighed inwardly. This was going to be another hard one.

"Eee!" Spoke the female orc "Albai.Prakh-duump?" (Elf. Are you luring me to doom?)

"We do not speak the black tongue here," replied Lanradhis easily, calmly, his eyes never leaving the dagger swinging before him.

"Then what do you want?" asked the orc suspiciously. She sniffed. "Is that food I smell?" She looked fixedly at the basket.

"Do you want this?" asked Calarienn.

"Elf food?" She sniffed again. "Venison. Flesh. Yes, I want it."

"Okay," said the elleth carefully. "I will put it right here and move away. You can come and eat it. I can see you are hungry."

In truth, the orc was beyond hunger and closer to starving. Her wide shoulder bones jutted out bereft of much flesh. She was wasting away in the wilderness. Both elves backed away a few meters and stood waiting.

When the orc was sure it was safe she leapt forward and grabbed the basket, jumping back to her original position again. She tore open the lid and sniffed hugely. Her eyes bulged in hunger, her boney hands reaching in and lifting out a large cooked leg. Without looking at the elves she took it between her teeth and began to tear into it. Saliva was sent flying in all directions. Lanradhis and Cararienn looked at each other slightly amused. Orcs never did have good eating habits, even when they were of a more civilised variety.

Within five minutes, the orc had devoured two legs of venison, one dried fish, an apple eaten whole, three seed cakes and a bag full of sweet tidbits, plus a skin of wine. "More?" she asked hopefully. She turned the basket around as though wondering whether that too was edible. "I get more?"

"Under certain conditions you may have more," said Lanradhis. The orc's bloodshot eyes narrowed, but her tongue was still licking her lips. She did not consider for long.

"More!"

"I must explain the conditions to you."

Alarmed, the orc glanced around her. "Where is more?"

"Conditions first. Then you can eat. In five minutes you can eat. But conditions first."

She pointed to herself and said plaintively, "Mat."

"No," said Lanradhis, "you will not die. You have just eaten. You will live for five more minutes. These are the conditions."

The orc seemed so distressed at the idea of waiting. She tore the lid off the basket and threw both articles behind her. Her dagger came back out and she stabbed the ground with it, very agitated. "This is how I get food," she looked up at them again, her eyes slightly wet. "Insects, see. I so hungry." She choked back a tear.

This was the heart-rending part of taking in a new one. They could not find Lundramir unless they were at their breaking point. That was the only way that they could be reformed to new ways. But it did not make the task of watching a strong, proud creature beg any easier.

"We know," said Calarienn. "We know your pain. It can stop now. We can help you, give you a home."

"Help? Stop…..home?" The orc seemed not to believe them. She was starting to think that elf flesh was looking mighty tasty, but eyed Hidii, the elf armed with bow and arrows, in the background. "I eat."

"These are the conditions," said Lanradhis. "You can come into our valley. We will not take your weapons. But you will be watched at all times. You can leave at any time. If you wish to stay, we will feed you, give you water. You must learn our rules if you wish to stay. You must abide by our rules. Do you agree?"

"Bring food here," the orc pleaded.

"Food is in the valley, you come with us. Keep your dagger, it's okay. But you can't hurt anyone. We will watch you carefully. Food is yours, if you come."

"I come."

The orc was too hungry to argue further. If she was going to die, she wished to do so on a full stomach. Surely nothing could be worse than slow death by hunger. She struggled weakly to her feet again and followed them. She noticed she had inadvertently speared a large bug on her blade when she had stabbed the ground. She swallowed it quickly, without even crunching it.

When they reached Hidii he handed her a poppyseed bar. She put the whole thing in her mouth and trudged between them silently, sated again for a moment. Entering the valley, they moved through the trees, down towards the tops of buildings.

"City," she said, somewhat awed. "Elf city?" She sniffed around. There shouldn't be a city here. "Orcs. I smell em!"

She had stopped walking.

"Yes, there are orcs here." Lanradhis had to approach this very carefully. Orcs were extremely territorial, and if elves could be known for some compassion, orcs definitely could not.

"No. Go no further. You eat me."

They could see she was not going to budge. Her fear of her own kind was even greater than her fear of elves and of starving. She sat forlornly. "Bring food."

"I cannot," said the elf. "Food is down there."

"Then I die." And she would not speak again.

This sometimes happened. The elves knew they could not feed her unless she agreed to the rules they all lived by. She could not remain separate from them and be part of them. She had to overcome her reticence. She had to be broken further. Someone would stay with her at a distance and watch her. If she decided to come further into the valley, she could. It was up to her and how badly she wished to live. Calarienn volunteered for first watch. As she was to be alone, she was given the quiver and bow. She would be relieved later that day.

So she watched the orc as her hands roamed around in the dirt seeking insects. At one point a tame squirrel approached to see who she was, and she found her spear and threw it. But her lack of skill, or her weakness, meant that she missed and she seemed too tired to be able to fetch back the spear again. She glared at Calarienn, showing her yellow teeth. She did not try to climb back out of the valley either.

Lanradhis had descended and gone straight to the communal house, Faflatie, to report to Balfa. He would take the next watch, when evening arrived.

* * *

_Let me know if you'd like more :)_


	3. 2 Breaking an Orc

**Chapter Two - Breaking an Orc**

Lanradhis had descended and gone straight to the communal house, Faflatie, to report to Bafra. He would take the next watch, when evening arrived.

When the sun had lowered, Lanradhis lit a torch and made his way to the eastern side of the valley where Calarienn and the new she-orc waited. He had warned Bafra that they had a newcomer who was going to be quite a challenge, but they had dealt with these emergencies before and managed to do okay in the past. Nonetheless, Lanradhis had a bad feeling about this.

There had been no sound, no word nor any alarm from Calarienn all afternoon, and Lanradhis was extremely curious by now as to what had been going on during her watch. The orc obviously had not left, nor had Calarienn returned to the Way House Faflatie, so he wondered what they had both been doing to pass the time. Before leaving the Way House, he had shoved some dry, stale bread in his pocket, carefully wrapped so as the orc would not smell it on him. Now he moved silently through the undergrowth before spotting Calarienn sitting facing a morbid looking creature. He knelt beside her.

"Does she sleep?" he asked of the elleth.

"No. She is as alert as ever. She has not slept, nor has she let her guard down. She watches when she believes I am not aware, like now for instance."

Lanradhis' eyes slid sideways to look more closely at the she-orc. She was indeed watching them both stealthily, and most probably was within earshot as well. He lowered his voice yet further.

"And how has her behaviour been?" Curiosity laced his voice.

"Oh, she begged for more food for quite a while after you left, then she spent a good hour sneering at me, showing me her teeth, then she tried weeping for a while before tiring of that, and then she became as you see her now, silent but watchful."

"Hmm," said the elf. "I sense something _intelligent _about her." More than mere wiliness, he felt there were aspects to the creature that made her slightly different from her race. Or why else would Varda have led her to this place? What qualities they would be, only time and patience would tell.

"Go to rest now Calar. You have done well. Remember to report to Faflatie."

She winked, got up and stretched her cramped legs before moving silently down into the valley again. Lanradhis immediately sat in her vacated spot. He looked at the orc. She had not moved an inch or shown any sign that she cared. But she was still there, so that in itself said something.

"So.." began Lanradhis, "here we are."

The orcstress moaned. A long, black nail traced a line in the earth.

"How has your day been?"

"Grrrr," she replied.

"That bad huh?" The elf grimaced in sympathy. "It can be tiresome sitting here all day."

"Aaarrrrr."

"I spoke to the people at the House, the one I said you could come to."

A sharp look from the orc belied her studied indifference. The lines being traced in the earth stopped momentarily, then began again. Lanradhis took this as a good sign.

"Do you wish to know if they will accept you?"

"You said _yes_. You promised already." Like a child her voice was whiny. She regarded him. "Did you not?" She challenged him to deny it.

"I did, I did. Well, they have told me yes, you can come, _if_ you are on your best behaviour."

"Behaviour?"

"Yes, the rules" said the elf patiently. "You understand what rules are don't you?"

"Orcs have many rules! Do not look directly at leader! Do not talk back to those higher than you! Do not steal food." She smirked at that last one. "Sometimes…."

"Yes?" prompted Lanradhis.

"Sometimes…I steal. I stole. But bad rule! Stinking! I got kicked often, hard."

"Well our food is free. If you work for the valley, you get free food. We work as a team."

"Yes," agreed the orc.

Lanradhis felt heartened by how this little chat was going. It seemed the she-orc was clever enough to grasp the offer that was being made. She was open. They often opened up when they knew there was no other choice, but not usually on the first day. It could take weeks. Sometimes newcomers became so starved while they decided that by the time a yes was given, they had to be carried down into the valley and were able to eat no more than honey and liquids. This is what made Lanradhis believe she might possess above-average intelligence for an orc. Though it did not make him trust her. The fact that she was smart made him all the more wary. He decided he would do the orienting himself if she descended with him. He wanted to keep an eye on this one. There was something about her.

"Do you want to come and visit us for a while? You can come with me now, come to our large dinner hall and dine with us, or you can eat separately. Then you can sleep on a bed. You can wash." Despite people believing orcs never washed, they did on occasion clean themselves in order to rid their fur and scales of itch-causing insects. He had noticed her scratching.

"Am I now prisoner?"

"You are free. You may leave at any time. But if you leave, we may not let you back, so think on it wisely."

"Food," she sighed. "I think I come and eat. Then sleep. Then decide if I stay."

"Very good."

Now that she had made a decision, she began to look very afraid again. Lanradhis couldn't help feeling sorry for her. If he could bring another orc up here to speak with her it would only frighten her more rather than reassure her. There was nothing he could do to assure her she didn't walk into a trap.

* * *

Wishing to gain her trust, he took the stale bread from his pocket and unwrapped it, throwing it to her. She grabbed it reflexively and gulped it. Looking slyly at Lanradhis she said, "No food until in the valley. Why you break the rule?"

He was breaking it so that he could gain her trust. If she felt she had at least one comrade, someone who would stretch rules slightly in order to please her, he knew she would acclimatise to her new surroundings slightly easier. He wanted to be the one she trusted, for now. At least until he could learn more about her.

They had began to walk very slowly down into the valley, almost hesitantly. The she-orc was smoothing down her fur, furtively shining her scales when she thought Lanradhis could not see. She cared about the impression she was going to make.

Lanradhis walked along ahead of her, keeping her nonetheless in his peripheral field of vision. He doubted very much that he had "broken" the creature. She had acquiesced to him far to quickly, quicker than any other orc ever had. Stubborn to the last, they could take weeks of painful negotiation, wishing to know every condition and detail of Lundramir before so much as moving. She was clever enough to avoid all of that fuss, but it did not mean that she was in any way broken. She was a thinker, not a blind aggressor, he guessed. Though she was aggressive in nature.

"What is your name?" asked the elf.

"I am Izzarrrr."

"Izar. Good," he commented.

"No! Izzarrrr. _Not _how you say it." She scoffed at his weak orc accent. "It is Izzarrrrr Blethren."

"Erm, okay then Izzarrrrr. Will you wish to take your first meal in company, or in private?"

It had seemed like a simple question, but the orc appeared to go into a spasm of fear or, perhaps, indecision. She muttered to herself for a moment before noticing he watched and stopping again.

"Eat with who?"

"In the mess at Faflatie. It is quiet there, you are the only newcomer, but others still live there for the moment."

"Others?" she asked suspiciously, her tone high.

"Yes. There are a group of five humans, a man and a woman, who came along some months ago. There is an elf child who still lives there to be counselled for trauma. And we have others who live there too that have been slow to move out. Then there is the staff as well, who eat with the dwellers."

"Others. Fine. Yes, eat them."

Lanradhis missed a step. Quizzically he looked at her.

"You mean, eat _with_ them."

She paused for the barest moment. "With them," she agreed. She continued walking, watching the ground. The elf was still shaking his head at her when they reached the valley floor.

Immediately they were at the edge of the settlement, amongst widely spaced buildings of wood and thatch. Izar looked curiously at the structures. They rounded the nearest one to find a clearing containing other people. Izar halted momentarily to take a closer look. A man walked past her, his face blank and inquiring, causing the orc to bare her teeth. She glared him down in fact, her steel eyes hard.

"Do not be afraid," commented Lanradhis. "No one will hurt or even notice you much. You are safe."

"I NOT afraid!" She glared at him too.

"Well, come then. It is not far."

Like a hawk Lanradhis watched her, feeling sorry for her still. Some elves stopped to watch them pass, which she steadfastly ignored. She almost had her nose in the air. She had no time for elves, apparently, even to snarl at them. That would be fun, Lanradhis reflected, since Faflatie was run mostly by elven.

Then there ahead of them was the Halfway House. They made their way over to it.

_Thanks for your comments_


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